


Wolf Hunt

by rabbitheartbeats



Series: Life In Skyhold [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: AU, F/M, Gen, It's Not Paranoia If They're Really Out To Get You, Kid Fic, Overprotective Parents, RoadTrip!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-30 21:03:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3951697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rabbitheartbeats/pseuds/rabbitheartbeats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life In Skyhold AU:<br/>Running away from home is something pretty much every child has considered at some point. Running away from home without telling anyone when your mother is the most powerful and influential woman in all of Thedas....is not a good idea. Good thing there's this bald apostate who knows a thing or two about hiding from the Inquisitor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wolf Hunt

When Ellana had decided to run away from home to go and do the one thing her mother had never had the guts to do, she did not have much of a plan.

In truth calling it a plan was likely insulting to any and all elaborate escape plans ever concocted by disgruntled teenagers throughout Thedas, but at least her 'plan' had worked. 

Mother was going to be furious, heads were likely going to roll and Ellana did feel a little bit guilty at the thought of how worried those who loved her would be, but Ellana was furious with her mother and this was too important to let something like _guilt_ stop her.

Her mother had lied to her for _fifteen_ years.

Were she feeling charitable, Ellana might admit that her mother had never outright lied, she had made many assumptions herself, but at the moment she was most certainly not feeling charitable towards her mother.

Were Ellana everything her mother wanted her to be, level-headed, rational, thoughtful and calm, or more simply _more_ like her twin brother Mahanon, she might have shared her thoughts with her sibling and together would approach mother with the discovery and had a good long talk with her about their father.

Ellana was most certainly _not_ her brother.

Ellana was the spitfire, with a temper as fiery as her hair and she _always_ did the reckless, impulsive and horrendously stupid thing and in a fit of outraged pique decided to set out and find the bastard who sired her by herself. 

Three days into her quest she realized how poorly prepared she was for life in the wilderness. It had all seemed so romantic the way the books spoke of the Dalish. Free and always wandering barefoot through the land, bowing to no lords or ladies, on an eternal quest for the lost knowledge of Arlathan. 

A bed of grass and a blanket of stars had poetry on a page, but offered little comfort in reality. In fact it failed to capture the number of sticks and rocks hidden within the grass, not to mention the bugs.

Her feet are,cold, bleeding and sore and she wonders at how her mother and uncle can stand to walk without shoes, and tells herself more than once that the Dalish must be crazy. But she _is_ just as much an elf as any of the Dalish and the most stubborn of them all so she keeps walking, fueled by pride and spite when she runs out of food. 

Two weeks into her journey she is cold, hungry, exhausted and she is almost positive that one of the wounds on her foot is festering. To add further insult to injury, she has discovered just how woefully unprepared she is for combat and she is almost positive that she is going to die before anyone finds her. 

She had considered herself a fairly adept mage - a superlative mage in fact - thanks to her uncle's enthusiastic praise and the pride of which her instructors spoke of her. Her mother on the other had had nothing but criticism for both her children.

Each and every one of her mother's oft repeated complaints flit through her mind, and Ellana finds that these blows to her pride hurt even more than the very physical pain in her legs and stomach.

_Her stance was weak, she left herself far too open. She focused too much on flash and not enough on the fire. She would not survive a second on the battlefield. A wolf without teeth is no wolf at all._

Ellana wishes very strongly that she had paid a little more attention to her mother’s lectures about footwork instead of storming off as she usually did. Her mother had been absolutely right. She had not managed to last at all on the field. She had not an ounce of grace in her as she had tripped over her staff trying to attack the wyvern, and her fireball had done little more than irritate the creature.

She is going to die and it is going to be because she was _stupid_ and Mahanon is not here to look at her with that smug 'I-told-you-so' look on his stupid face and Ellana chokes back a sob. The Veil is so thin here that she can feel it on her skin, can hear the whispering of the spirits - and were she a _better_ mage, a _stronger_ mage she could go home and see her family again, just _let us help you little girl _.__

The wyvern bats her away with an almost lazy flick of its tail, winding Ellana and sending her staff into the dirt, and her into a crumpled ball of bruises, pain and wounded pride.

She squeezes her eyes shut and struggles to breathe as she hears it lumber towards her, its breathing loud and over her, when she feels a massive shift in the Veil and a sudden chill in her bones. 

“Are you alright da’len?” a man’s voice asks of her and she opens her eyes to see the wyvern shatter in a shower of crystal dust as a bald elf in ...rustic clothing approaches her. 

“I’m fine!” Ellana yells, as if saying it louder would make it true. It is in fact the most brazen lie she has told in years and she cringes at the stern, highly skeptical raised brow the hahren gives her, as he crouches down next to her and begins tending to her injuries. 

“What are you doing out here?” he asks her somewhat sternly. “Only fools walk into wyvern territory alone.” he says as his hands glowing with a soft and gentle blue light. He is looking at her torn and bloody feet with a particularly angry expression and Ellana finds herself flushing in embarrassment. 

“Where are your shoes da'len?” he asks tersely as he undoes the loose foot-wraps she’d put on earlier that day. A snarl escapes him when he sees the soles of her feet and the burning wounds she had, and immediately begins rummaging through his pack for a foul-smelling poultice that he promptly begins to practically douse her feet in.

The salve is _frigid_ and stings worse than a lightning bolt to the face, and Ellana forces down a hiss of pain.

“Where are yours?” she snaps irritably, not liking the way he was clearly judging her, angry that he was seeing her in this moment of weakness. She was _not_ a child. She was _fifteen_. The same age her uncle had been when he had gotten his _vallaslin_. He looks a little surprised at her tone, but his expression remains stern. 

“I da’len,” he says sounding just like her mother and brother do when Ellana’s said or done something particularly stupid. “Have no need of shoes, as I have been doing this for much longer than you.” He emphasizes this statement by redoing the footwraps, packing and bandaging her wounded feet expertly as he heals her. His magic feels odd, and Ellana feels like she has just brushed against something enormous and somewhat terrifying.

“You’re not Dalish, however and are very far from home, I would presume.”

“What makes you say I’m not Dalish?” she demands angrily. She was Dalish! Sort of.

“Well for one, da’len,” he says calmly. “You possess the gift of magic. No First would be so irresponsible and foolhardy as to set out alone. Especially one so untrained as-”

“Untrained?!” Ellana shrieks indignantly. She wasn’t untrained. Untested, yes, but untrained?! 

Ellana decides to ignore the fact that this bald hahren had moments ago saved her from certain death because she had been utterly incapable of conjuring even the smallest fireball to save herself with. 

“Your grasp of the fundamentals appear to be solid, but the execution of your spells is done in the way of the Circle mages…” the hahren continues.

“All flash and no fire,” Ellana spits out her mother’s words angrily at her feet, and the hahren simply nods in agreement.

“Precisely,” he says, rising to his feet. "There. Can you stand _da'len_?" he asks her, eyes kind as he holds a hand out to her.

The burning sensation that had been plaguing her for the past few days is gone and Ellana experimentally flexes her toes. A little numb from the salve and the healing magic, but she might - no she _would_ manage. 

She doesn't take the hahren's hand as she slowly pushes herself to her feet, and looks up at her rescuer's face. There is something oddly familiar about the slant of his nose and his blue-grey eyes remind her of her brother. He seems to be studying her as well.

"What's your name?" she asks him, and he smiles something that's a little like a smirk.

"My name is Solas."

**Author's Note:**

> So this is sort of what I've been writing instead of more Life in Skyhold blurbs. I have bits and pieces but then it sort of kinda, maybe got a little out of hand. There are like 3 versions of this idea so far. One where Ellana is not a teenager and rather an exceptionally precocious seven year old and Edwin Cadash is the worst babysitter _ever_. Of all time.  
>  I am still writing Life in Skyhold snippets, it's just...coming along a lot slower since i get distracted with my AU snippets....AKA the Fenarel as the Inquisitor, the Inquisitor!Edwin timeline of FAIL, and the Inquisitor!Fenarel meets Skyhold!Fenarel in the Crossroads because reasons and there is much murder attempted.  
> I may make another thing where I'll just dump all of those on here somewhere as they come.


End file.
